


A Better Option

by Mice



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, An AU of an AU, M/M, strange things happening, young!Mycroft but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mice/pseuds/Mice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU for part of Tammany's "Time and Memory" - a what-if, and probably a happier ending for young My.</p><p>You honest to gods do have to read her story to understand what's happening here. Go do it anyway, because she's a fabulous writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Option

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tammany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammany/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Time and Memory](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904541) by [Tammany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammany/pseuds/Tammany). 



> This is sort of based on following up young My's obsession with Greg. I suppose some people might be squicked because of the age difference, but My is an adult under the law, and Greg is really clear with him about what's going to happen and what isn't. I know this likely has nothing at all to do with where Tammany's actually going with the story, but it was interesting to contemplate while I was on the ferry back to Italy from Greece and had an entire day with nothing to do but write.

My had watched long enough to know the what, if not the why. Seeing them both, 'why' might be forever beyond his understanding. He felt a grinding, low-grade jealousy over it, though he knew he shouldn't want the man.

Greg Lestrade was too old – over 50, greying, not interested in an 18-year-old, no matter that the 18-year-old in question was also the man in his late 40s that Lestrade actually wanted. It was too complicated. That version of himself, that horrifying man he'd grown into – My could never hope to match Mycroft Holmes in Lestrade's affections.

And yet.

And yet, Lestrade treated him with kindness. He was gentle with My, without being condescending. He answered My's questions, helped him as he recovered from his injuries, protected him. And My felt safe with him, for the first time that he could remember. Lestrade shielded him from the worst of Sherlock's abuses, seemed to even his brother out a bit, now the worst shock of My's appearance was over. Lestrade cared about him, just not in the way My really wanted.

He'd thought long and hard about ways to approach Lestrade about it. The man would never love him, could never love him. At best, My might get some affection from him, like a father or an uncle, as they should have been in his life. That, though, wasn't what he wanted, either.

Even just a night, a few hours in the man's arms; that would be enough, My thought. Never enough, but enough. At least he'd know what it was like, would be treated well for his first time, rather than have some awkward, potentially miserable fumble with a man nearer his own age, or with an older one trying to take advantage.

"Hey, My. What's on your mind?" Lestrade sat next to him on the couch, touched his arm with that broad, tan hand. "You've been in another world for hours now."

"You," My said, simply, taking a risk despite the nonexistent chance it would make a difference.

"Me? Why me?" Lestrade sounded genuinely curious more than anything.

"Because I'm attracted to you." My's answer was hesitant but born of absolute truth.

Lestrade was silent for a moment, his eyes searching. "You get right to it, don't you?"

"You're not going to tell me I'm too young?"

"You already know that. Doesn't bear repeating the obvious, does it?"

"Aside from that, why wouldn't you?"

Lestrade's brown eyes closed. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, then opened them again. "Because I'm not attracted to people your age. Because I wouldn't want to hurt you. Because I couldn't love you the way you'd want – the way you'd need. I do care about you, My, but not like you want me to."

"Because of him. Because you want him. You're in love with him." My leaned back, wrapping his arms around himself, wanting to sink into the upholstery that propped his back.

"Partly, I suppose." Lestrade shrugged. "But you're also my responsibility. I'm meant to watch over you, to keep you safe, and that has to add a certain distance as well."

"You wouldn't have to be, though. Someone else could do that," My suggested, quiet. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to consider that, though.

"Mycroft wouldn't trust anyone else with you," Lestrade said, "and even if he did, I likely wouldn't be allowed near you if he reassigned me. You wouldn't see me at all."

My nodded, not looking at him. "You're really the only person I've ever felt safe with."

"It shouldn't be that way. You deserve to have people around you that you can trust."

"And who would that be?" My looked up at him. "My brother? The security agents around us? _Mycroft_?" My sneered as he said the name. "No."

"You won't be here forever," Lestrade murmured. "You'll meet people. You'll go to uni. You'll live your own life. You don't have to be him, you know. You can do whatever you like. Nobody will stop you."

"I'll meet people who won't understand me, who'll want to take advantage of me, who won't treat me like you do." My sighed and shook his head. He looked back into Lestrade's eyes. "I'd rather have my first experience with you, even if that's all it ever is. I know you’d never hurt me. You'd never make me do anything I didn't want. You'd never lie to me and tell me you love me, just to get me into bed with you. I've heard what people say, what they do to each other. You'd be kind to me." My's voice had, all unknowing, turned pleading as he finished speaking.

"I can't, My. I shouldn't." Lestrade's voice was gentle.

"At least think about it," My asked. "It can't hurt to think about it."

***

"He asked me to sleep with him."

Mycroft looked up from his computer. "I thought he might, eventually."

"You thought he might? Fantastic. So why did you keep me assigned to his detail for so long?"

"What did you tell him?"

Lestrade sat in the chair in front of Mycroft's desk. "I gave him all the reasons it would be a lousy idea."

Mycroft rested his elbows on his desk, steepling his fingers in front of his lips. "But you didn't tell him you didn't want to."

Lestrade didn't answer, and the moment stretched interminably before he spoke. "No. I didn't."

"And why is that?"

"You know why," he said quietly.

"Indulge me." Mycroft's reply was equally quiet.

"Because he's you." Lestrade looked down at his knees, tapped one foot restlessly on the rug. "He's so much you, without the walls and the hardness, and it would be so easy to give him at least a little of what he wants."

Mycroft watched him silently for a long time, and Lestrade shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Mycroft's face was unreadable. "My first sexual experience," he finally said, "was not ideal. I thought I was getting what I wanted. My maths professor was... kind, but ultimately had only his own pleasures and interests in mind. It certainly wasn't unpleasant, but I had convinced myself that he cared for me when he did not. I didn't know how to ask yet for what I wanted, nor did I understand that he did not feel for me what I wished him to feel."

"And what am I supposed to make of that?" Lestrade asked.

"That I rather wish I'd been with someone like you for my first time, instead."

"And what about now?" Lestrade asked, his heart beating entirely too fast.

"Now, I have a great deal to consider before giving any sort of fair answer," Mycroft replied, his eyes locked with Lestrade's. "You know all the reasons it would be unwise."

Lestrade nodded. "I also know all the reasons it could be a better idea than it seems at first glance."

"It bears consideration," Mycroft said. His hands parted, returning to his keyboard. "Ultimately, I wouldn't object to your giving him a far better memory of his initial encounter than I have."

Lestrade swallowed around a hard lump in his throat. "I'll think about it."

"You needn't do more than that if you don't want to. I do understand the reasons not to pursue such a thing." He turned his attention back to his computer, and Lestrade knew he'd been dismissed.

***

It was two weeks before My brought the idea up again. Lestrade hadn't distanced himself after their conversation, but it was obvious he was considering the whole thing, had probably talked to _him_ about it.

"Are you any closer to a conclusion?" he asked, as they watched a Bond film together, late one evening.

Lestrade looked over at him. "You would have to understand," he said slowly, "that this is all it is. This is all it could be. I can't give you more than just one night. I can't be your boyfriend. I can't be your lover. I can't even be your regular casual shag. It could only ever be the one night, My. Nothing else. You know that, right?"

"Would you still be my friend, after?" That was important. It was necessary. If Lestrade vanished afterward, never spoke to him again, pulled away and left him alone with just Sherlock and John and Mary for company, it wouldn't be worth it.

"Of course." The warmth and certainty in Lestrade's voice was enough. The risk was worth taking.

"Then yes. I know this is all it would be. As long... as long as I don't lose you entirely afterward, then I want this with you."

Lestrade nodded. "All right, then. Not tonight, and not here at Baker Street. Tomorrow we can go to mine. I don't want Sherlock walking in on us here because he's having a fit of pique or something. We'll do it right, with privacy and dinner and all the time we'll need. But you have to promise me two things."

"Those being?"

"First, you have to promise to ask me for the things you want to try. It might be a bit hard at first, as I know you probably don't have much idea what you might like, but I'm not a mind reader, and I'm not as good at all that deduction as you Holmeses."

My nodded. "All right. And the second thing?"

"That you'll tell me if I do anything you don't like. That you'll stop me, even if we're in the middle of it, if you don't like something, or if it hurts, or if you don't want it. It's okay to not like something you thought you wanted. And it's okay not to finish something because you changed your mind.

"I don't want you going through with something you don't want just because you think I like it, or want it, even if I'm getting off on it. I don't care if I'm about to come, do you understand? You don't want to continue, you stop me, and that's it. Just because you don't like one thing doesn't mean it's over. We can try something else. You got that?"

"I understand," My said, relieved. "And I agree. If I don't like or want something, I'll tell you."

"Right, then," Lestrade said, nodding. "You can have one night with a friend who cares about you and wants you to have the best experience I can give you. Dinner, a good shag, some breakfast the next morning. Nothing awkward, no regrets."

"That... sounds better than anything I'd hoped for, actually," My answered.

"And you might as well call me Greg. Kind of ridiculous to keep calling me Inspector if you're going to share a bed with me." Greg gave him one of those blinding, brilliant smiles, and My lost himself in the beauty of it.

***

Greg took him from Baker Street late in the evening, while Sherlock was off doing God knows what. Better, My thought, than his brother watching him leave. There had been some cruel comments earlier in the day about his obvious pining after Lestrade, but My hadn't risen to the bait. He was, at least, getting somewhat better at that, with Greg and John's reinforcement, and Mary's ability to call Sherlock on his behavior when he got to be too much of an arse. They were better at it than his parents had ever been, at least.

Greg's flat was small but reasonably tidy. He'd obviously cleaned up a little more than his usual, knowing he was bringing My over for the night. There was already the scent of something savory in the air, warm against the chill of autumn outside. "Some soup, a roasted chicken," Greg said, seeing that My had noticed.

"Thank you."

Greg chuckled. "Don't thank me until you've survived the meal."

My resisted rolling his eyes. "If you were that bad at it, you'd have bought takeaway."

"You got me there," Greg admitted. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Do you have wine?"

Greg nodded. "Figured you for a wine type. I'm more beer myself, but I did get a bottle for tonight." My followed him into the kitchen, where Greg opened a bottle and poured him a glass of something red. It wasn't spectacular, but it was acceptable, and My sipped at it, wondering how the night would go.

Greg opened a beer for himself, then looked at My. "It's all right, you know. We'll take this at whatever speed works for you."

My took another sip and set his glass down. "Then, do you think I might have a kiss?" he asked, hesitant.

Greg grinned and set his glass down. "Of course. Come here." He opened his arms and My stepped into his embrace. They were the same height, though My knew from seeing _him_ that he'd be taller soon. Greg looked into his eyes and ran a gentle hand along My's cheek.

My sighed and his eyes slipped closed as Greg's face neared his own. My wrapped his arms around Greg's body as their lips met, a soft touch. He breathed into the careful kiss, opening his mouth to Greg's slow exploration, his entire body responding to the closeness, and the wet velvet movement of Greg's warm, lager-flavored tongue. He let the feel of Greg's solid body in his arms, Greg's strong arms around him, and the taste of his mouth burn themselves into his memory.

My's body responded with flame-quick, intense arousal, wanting more, and his hands slowly roved over Greg's body, his flat palms exploring the planes of Greg's sides, the strength of his thighs, the full curve of the man's absolutely glorious arse. Greg pressed his hips against him and My could feel Greg's cock slowly filling against My's groin. My was already achingly hard and rapidly becoming breathless, but he refused to rut mindlessly against the man.

Greg's mouth drew away from his, and My buried his face in Greg's shoulder, rubbing his cheek and nose against the skin of Greg's neck and the cloth of the man's shirt, breathing him in. "It's all right," Greg murmured, his lips moving in My's hair. "We have all night. Dinner's soon, and you should breathe a little."

"Don't want to let go," My whispered, breathless, clinging to Greg, his fingers knotted in Greg's shirt at his shoulder and waist. He was far too close to coming already, just from this. It was embarrassing. He should have more control.

"You don't have to right now," Greg said, holding My closer. One big hand slid down to cup My's bottom, squeezing gently. My squirmed against him, helpless against the intensity of his arousal and desire. "if you feel like you're about to come, though –"

My nodded frantically. "I don't want it to end so soon," he gasped, unable to stop himself from trembling in Greg's arms. "I don't know what to do."

"It's okay. We can take a few minutes to take care of it. That won't be the end of the night. We're just getting started."

"But what if that's all I can do?" My asked, still moving helplessly against Greg's body. 

Greg chuckled, his breath soft in My's ear. "You're 18, My. Right now, you'd be able to get it up in a stiff breeze. You can probably manage at least three or four tonight and, at your age, your refractory period's going to be like lightning. I'll be lucky to go twice, and it'll take a lot longer for me to get it up again, but I'll last longer when I do."

"But what about you—" It was almost agonizing now.

"This isn't about me tonight. It's about making you feel good, so we'll go into the bedroom and take care of this, then we'll have dinner, yeah?"

My nodded, a high-pitched sound escaping from between his teeth. Greg took his hand and led him into his bedroom, then started unbuttoning My's trousers. My thought he would hyperventilate. Greg was swift and efficient with the trousers and My's pants, and My flung his blazer across the room and pulled his shirt open as quickly as he could. Greg pressed him down on the bed, one broad hand caressing My's balls and stroking his cock, and My came with a choked-off cry, strings of white come spattering everywhere. It was so much better than his own hand had ever been, and he was breathless in the wake of his sudden finish, floating in a blissful haze.

Greg cleaned him up with a flannel, and My was conscious of his pants and trousers still tangled about his knees. Greg tossed the flannel aside and pulled My into his arms, warm and wonderful and reassuring. My kissed him, not caring much about the clothes dangling from his legs. Greg's hand stroked his side slowly, gently, tracing over his hip and settling him as their tongues slipped together, curling and caressing in Greg's mouth.

"You all right?" Greg asked, a few minutes later, when My had caught his breath and come down a little from the high of his orgasm.

"Yes." My knew he was probably giving Greg a hopeless look of utter adoration, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

"Let's get you back together enough for dinner, then," Greg said, pulling My's pants and trousers back up. "There's more later, and now you'll be able to focus a little, and worry a bit less about how this is going to go."

My nodded and kissed him again, slowly, curling his body around Greg's. Their limbs tangled together for a moment before Greg pulled away and stood, offering My a hand. He took it and let Greg tug him to his feet, then buttoned his shirt.

Dinner tasted as good as it smelled, and My was ravenous, having to make an effort not to bolt everything down in his hunger. They talked a little, but not about anything important. My didn't want to let his feelings get the better of him. He knew exactly what he'd agreed to, and wasn't going to fall apart when he got his wish. It would be enough to fall asleep in Greg's arms just once, and to wake there, having been given a gift like this. That didn't mean it wouldn't hurt to have it end. Better, he supposed, a clean, bright shard of pain he could see coming, than the slow agony of what he might think was a deep, grand love that was really nothing of the sort.

My couldn't stop thinking of Greg's strong hands.

When dinner was finished, Greg cleared away the table and My helped him, though they left the dishes in the sink for later. Greg led him again into his bedroom, took him in his arms. "What would you like, My?"

"I, erm, I'd really like to see you. Naked, I mean." Greg nodded and began to undress, but My put a hand over Greg's. "May I?" My asked.

Greg smiled and moved his hands away from the buttons of his shirt. "Of course. As you like." He pressed a kiss to My's cheek. "I'm here for your pleasure tonight."

My pulled at the buttons slowly, just looking at first, as the broad expanse of Greg's chest was revealed. The hair there, like on his head, was greying. Curious, he ran his fingers through it, then traced his fingertip in a circle around the aureole of one nipple. It tightened and peaked under his touch, though Greg's breath barely shifted.

Running the flat of his palm over Greg's bare chest, My leaned in to kiss the tanned skin there, rough hair tickling his lips. Greg made a soft, pleased sound. My's mouth opened and he licked Greg's hot, tight nipple, tasting skin, then sucked gently. Greg rumbled a hum of approval and he cradled the back of My's head with one hand, not pushing for more, but simply encouraging.

My's other hand fumbled a little with the flies of Greg's jeans, and he could feel the heat of Greg's growing erection. He ran his palm over it, tracing its length and expanding girth with his fingers. The whole thing drew a soft responding groan from My, and a rapidly intensifying arousal of his own. He slid to his knees, his mouth busy licking, sucking, and kissing Greg's skin on the way down. "Let me suck you," My groaned.

"Soon as you've got me undressed," Greg agreed, toeing his shoes off. "I've got condoms here. We'll get one on me first."

My looked up into Greg's dark, dilated eyes. "Do we really need one?"

"Yeah, always, unless you're monogamous with someone clean. Even then, you can't necessarily be sure they're not having it off with somebody else. Best to be safe. Always."

My heard the sting of bitter experience in Greg's voice and wished the man hadn't been hurt, but there was nothing for it. He nodded as he stripped off Greg's jeans and pants, watching as the man's impressive erection was revealed. God, he smelled so good. My nuzzled his face into the thick pubic hair, kissing at the fold of Greg's thigh, letting his tongue slide down the base of Greg's cock and along the side of his scrotum. Greg's breath gusted out and he tugged gently at My's hair.

"Condom first, My. Let's not get carried away, much as both of us might like it."

My nodded. He was so hard, and he wanted to worship this man's cock, all dark and solid, with its thick shaft and the broad, round head. He wondered how much of it he could get into his mouth, wanting all of it with a need that shot through him and settled, tight, into his chest. 

A moment later, Greg put a condom in his hand and slicked his bared cock with some lube. My was suddenly conscious that he was on his knees, still fully clothed, about to suck another man's cock for the first time.

"It's all right," Greg said, seeing My's hesitation. He sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. "If you'd like, take off your clothes and come sit with me."

"Would you undress me?" My asked.

"Sure. Here, put that down until we're ready for it."

My set the condom on the side table and Greg began undressing him, much more slowly and carefully than before. He kissed My as he stripped him, caressing and sucking and licking his body everywhere, touching his skin, running fingers through is hair, sucking his earlobes and the points of his elbows, kissing him in the tender hollows at the backs of his knees; it left him gasping and desperate.

My's hand closed around Greg's thick cock, and he squeezed carefully, getting a sense of how much pressure Greg might like. Greg sighed in My's ear. "Time for that condom, I think. And one for you, as well, if you'd like."

"God, yes," My whispered, a shock of even more intense arousal shuddering through him.

"Like this," Greg said, opening a second condom and slicking My's cock, before rolling the condom down the length. He shivered with the sensation of Greg's hand on him, touching him like that. My did the same for Greg, loving the sound of the man's sigh as he rolled it all the way down, then caressed his heavy balls.

"You have a beautiful cock, My," Greg murmured, pressing gentle kisses up the side of it. My gasped and his hips bucked into the touch.

"Nothing like as nice as yours," My panted, unable to do more than clutch it helplessly, squeezing Greg's flesh tightly. My's cock was about as long as Greg's, but more slender, with a tip that came to a narrow, red point under his pale, retreating foreskin.

"Hush. Nonsense. I love it."

Holding his breath for a moment to get his thundering heart under control, My let it out in a gush. "Are... are you thinking of... _him_?"

Greg looked down the length of his body at him. "Maybe a little," he admitted, "but I'm here with you. It's your lovely cock I'm about to suck. You're the one who's about to get a really fantastic blow, not him." And he leaned down and took My's cock into his mouth, slowly, nearly down to the root, in one long motion. My's mind blanked.

It was a shock he didn't come on the spot, but Greg's fingers were tight around the base of My's cock, holding his release at bay. After a few breathless moments of glorious sensation, My rolled a little onto his side and started taking Greg's huge cock into his mouth. Greg moaned softly around My's cock, then backed off a bit, just licking at him, teasing. He let My explore and experiment a little, as My got used to the bitter taste of the latex and the rich, heady scent of Greg's aroused body. That dark musk filled his head, leaving him spinning and dizzy.

Greg began to suck him again, squeezing and caressing My's arse, running his hands up My's side and back as My sucked Greg. The feeling was incredible, and Greg's cock in his mouth only seemed to intensify the pleasure of Greg's attention to his own cock. When he ran a thumb down the flesh of My's perineum, slipping across the hypersensitive skin of his anus, My came, shuddering and groaning. Greg sucked him enthusiastically through the peak, gentling as My slid down the other side.

When he could think again, he realized he was still holding Greg's hard, hot length in his hand. He could feel the man's rough, fast pulse throbbing in it. "I'm sorry, you haven't—"

"It's all right, My. I wasn't expecting to yet. And, really, if you're up to it when you're ready to go again, I'd love to have you fuck me. I'd love to feel your cock in my arse."

My swallowed hard. He nodded, wordless, his head bobbling quickly. All his fantasies about Greg had involved Greg doing that to him, but the thought of being inside the man, holding him, feeling him come apart in My's arms, was overwhelming. "Yes, please, yes, if you'll do that to me later."

Greg grinned, then kissed him, rough and passionate. "Oh, yeah, absolutely. Anything you want, My. Anything at all."

My burrowed into his arms, holding him with all his strength. "I want that so much."

"I'll take such good care of you, My."

"You already have, in so many ways." He wanted Greg so badly, wanted to keep him, to love and be loved by him, but he knew it was impossible. Greg obviously belonged to that older, more frightening version of himself.

Greg held him with one arm, tugging the spent condom gently from My's soft cock, the pulling off his own, before enfolding him in a full-body hug that felt safer and happier than anything My had ever hoped to experience in his life. They lay like that for fifteen or twenty minutes, just enjoying the contract, their hands moving slow and gentle over each other's bodies.

Eventually, Greg kissed him. "Do you think you'll be up to going again sometime soon?"

Even just the question was enough to get My's body responding to the thought of being inside Greg. His cock twitched against Greg's leg and Greg laughed. "God," Greg chuckled, "you're 18. Of course you'll be ready again soon."

"What about you?" Greg was still half-hard, pressed against him.

"I've not come yet. Trust me, My, I'm fine. We'll both get what we want tonight, or tomorrow morning, if I'm too tired for a second round when you're done with me, okay?"

"All right." It was encouraging. My hesitated for a moment, embarrassed. "I'm not exactly sure what to do."

"Don't worry, I am. I'll show you everything you need to know." Greg moved against him, a little harder now than he'd been a few moments ago. "Feel that? That's me, wanting you inside me, My. You're going to feel so good." He nearly purred those last few words. My was fairly certain he'd burst into flame at some point if Greg kept talking like that, in that tone of voice.

Greg nibbled at his neck and ran the tip of his tongue up the edge of My's ear, breathing into it and sending a jolt down My's cock as he did. "You'll need to get me ready for you with your fingers," Greg murmured into his ear, "and lots of lube."

"Will it hurt?" My asked.

"For me? No. I've done this a lot before and I'm used to it. For you, if it's not done slowly, and if you're too nervous and tight, it could. But I'll make sure you're really ready for me before we do anything at all. There might be some discomfort at first, but I won't cause any kind of damage, and I won't let it hurt by doing it wrong. You'll have to tell me if anything's too uncomfortable, though, okay? I'll be depending on you to let me know before it ever gets to the point of pain."

It all sounded reasonable, but My didn't know how he'd react until they actually got into it. He knew he wanted Greg's big, hard cock inside him. He knew it was supposed to feel good, though he wasn't sure how. There really hadn't been a way for him to find out too much before he'd ended up here. But Greg would take care of him, would take all the time My needed to do things right, and make him feel wonderful.

"The first thing you need to do is get your fingers nice and slick." Greg poured a generous amount of lube into My's hand then, slowly, talked him through the process of stretching him open, of feeling for his prostate, of leaving the man a panting, desperate body on the bed.

My was impossibly turned on, watching how Greg reacted to it all. Because of the explanations and the guidance, he knew more or less what to expect when Greg did it to him. And he was making Greg moan, making him writhe with pleasure. _He_ was going to bring him to orgasm with his fingers, with his mouth, with his body. It was _My's_ cock Greg was going to ride to a climax. It made My feel powerful in a way he'd never done before, and he loved that feeling.

When Greg was ready, My slipped between his spread thighs and eased his hard cock into Greg's tight, impossibly hot body, biting his lip almost to the point of bleeding to keep himself from coming right then. He'd almost lost it, but the look on Greg's face as My thrust slowly into him was worth any effort to hold back his own pleasure until he made Greg come.

It was awkward at first, trying to find a rhythm, but when they did, it was incredible. The slick slip of My's cock in Greg's tight hole was blissful, and he had Greg moaning and tugging at his cock, with his legs over My's shoulders, after only a few minutes.

Greg talked to him, told him what he liked, and how My should move, until My started stroking over Greg's prostate and left him a sweating, shuddering wreck. My took Greg's cock in his hand and tried to stay coordinated enough to stroke him while he kept up the rhythm of his thrusts, but it was a losing battle. Panting, Greg took over for him, and My focused on just thrusting, pushing Greg closer and closer to the edge.

"Please, god, yes, My – more, just a little more." Greg's voice was harsh and broken as he pleaded, desperately meeting My's thrusts, then My watched as Greg's entire body went rigid, and he came with a shuddering groan, convulsing and bucking and sending My into his own immense climax.

Greg went limp under him, panting for breath, and My slowly collapsed atop him, overly tender as his limp cock slipped out of Greg's body. He had just enough presence of mind to remember to hold onto the condom so they didn't lose it in Greg's body, then he sighed and curled up with Greg, their bodies tangling together.

They slept for a while, dozing lightly before waking again, still in each other's arms. He'd done that – My had done that – wiped Greg out entirely and left him in blissed-out exhaustion. My was incredibly proud of himself, not just for lasting long enough to let Greg finish, but for genuinely bringing the man pleasure, for doing everything right he first time.

My sighed. "You okay?" Greg asked.

"Fantastic," My breathed. "I didn't realize it was possible to feel like that."

"Being on the other end of it is bloody fantastic, too." Greg smiled at him, sleepy-eyed. In that moment, My thought Greg was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He smiled at Greg, and Greg pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly.

"Do you think you might be up to giving me a demonstration sometime soon?" My's hand slid between them and he caressed Greg's cock, but it was unresponsive.

"Give me half an hour or so, and we'll give it a try, okay?"

"I think that's acceptable."

Greg gave a soft snort of laughter. He ruffled My's hair. "You're going to make some lucky bloke a fantastic lover someday, My."

My didn't say 'I wish it could be you.'

***

It was more like three hours later before they were both awake enough for Greg to try again. "I'm an old man," he said. "You'll just have to cut me a little slack."

"Not so old," My assured him.

"Old enough," Greg insisted. "Old enough."

"Not too old to have sex with me again."

"No." Greg smiled. "Not too old for that." His fingers trailed down My's back and into the cleft of his arse, teasing gently. 

My sighed and spread his legs, enjoying the touch. Greg's fingers were thick, and it was a little uncomfortable as the first one pushed carefully into his body. "Let me know if it's too much," Greg insisted. "I don't want to hurt you at all. This should feel good, not painful."

My nodded, willing his body to relax into it, and evening his breathing, making it deeper. Greg's finger moved slowly in and out, and the slight friction of his slicked flesh began to get My aroused, his cock twitching with interest at the new sensation.

"Yeah, that's it," Greg whispered, "like that." He bent his head and sucked at one of My's nipples, using his free hand to stroke My's hardening cock. My uttered a tiny whimper of pleasure as Greg's finger moved a little more freely, twisting and rubbing inside him.

A second finger followed, once Greg thought My was loose enough. When both fingers pressed into My's prostate and rubbed over it in a circle, he gasped at the jolt of pleasure that shot through him, fingers clawing at the sheets.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?"

"Yes, yes, oh god yes," My panted.

"Just think how good my cock will feel, rubbing inside you like that," Greg growled. My could only moan in response. "Think about me fucking you, slow and hard and deep."

My reached out and grabbed Greg by his hair, dragging him down for a desperate kiss. They both groaned into it, Greg's tongue fucking My's mouth in response. "Please, he gasped, when their lips parted, "please, Greg, fuck me now." God, how he wanted it.

"You're not ready yet. I'm a lot bigger than this."

"I want you, please."

Greg pushed a third finger into him, still slow and careful, and My tried to fuck himself on them, but Greg held back. It felt so good, even stretched like that, and on the bare edge of pain. "I'm bigger than this, too."

My whimpered at the thought, his legs shaking as he held them open. Greg worked his fingers in and out, a little more vigorously, vending down to tease My's cock with his mouth; My wished he didn't have the condom on, knowing Greg's tongue would be so much better without that thin barrier between them.

"I'll want you on your hands and knees," Greg said, after letting My's cock slip from between his lips. "It'll be easier on you for the first time."

"Anything, just fuck me," My begged.

"You need a little more, first. I'm going to put a fourth finger in there. That's about what my cock will be like. Let me know if it's too much."

It was, a little, and My gasped. Even though he didn't say anything, Greg seemed to realize it had been too much, and pulled back to three for a few minutes, pressing and rubbing and spreading them a little at a time as he teased My's cock and nipples, driving him mad with want. By the time Greg had worked a fourth finger in and loosened him up enough, My was crying out in need and desperate desire. Each slip of Greg's fingers pulled another groan from his throat. His back arched and his fingers knotted in Greg's thick, greying hair, and My begged for his body.

"Easy now," Greg whispered, gently pulling his fingers away. That was more uncomfortable than the stroke and push of their entry, but My wanted to be filled again. "Come on, My, let's get you upon your hands and knees. Do you think you can do that?"

My nodded, panting, and rolled to his side. Greg helped him get into position and pushed his thighs more widely apart. Covering My's back with his body, Greg murmured, "I'm going to try to enter you now. Relax for me, and breathe out, okay?"

My took a quick, deep breath, then let it all out as Greg's huge, thick cock pressed into him. He gasped and shook as it stretched him open, and Greg stopped for a moment.

"Keep going!" My snapped, pushing back into the penetration. Greg leaned more of his weight into it, and the thickest part of the head pushed past the tight ring. My groaned, loud, his fingers fisting in the sheets.

"You good?"

"Stretched," My gasped, "not painful. Oh, god, you're so big."

Greg's slow movement continued and My howled as the head of Greg's huge cock pressed over his prostate. The pleasure was nearly blinding in its intensity, and only became more so as he tightened around Greg's cock. Greg gasped, his hands clamping down into the muscles of My's hips. "Easy, My, easy. It's too much."

With an effort of will, he managed to relax a little, letting Greg in further, a little more with each slow thrust, until he could feel Greg's balls brushing against the back of his own. "That's it," Greg said, leaning down over My and wrapping him in his arms. "I'm all the way in. Let me know when you're ready for me to move."

My's breath was quick and a little shallow, but he forced himself to take deep breaths and let his body adjust to the thick, hard weight of Greg's cock inside him. A few moments later, he nodded. "Yeah, now," he said, feeling the trickle of sweat trailing along his sides and down his temples.

"All right," Greg murmured, "I've got you. If it gets to be too much, let me know. I'm going to start moving now." My nodded and Greg began rocking into him, holding him tight as he worked his way up to deep, powerful, devastating thrusts that left My grunting and biting back shouts of pleasure.

"It's all right, My," Greg panted. "There's only us here to hear you. Just let it go. Let yourself feel it. Don't hold back." My moaned – a sharp, broken sound. "Yes, let me hear you." Greg's hips snapped, driving into My's body. "Give it all to me. Let go." Greg's hips were rocking now, in an arc side to side as he thrust in and out, and My thought he would explode with the intensity of the pleasure.

Finally, unable to hold back anymore, he began shouting; harsh, hard gasps and bellows that rattled in his chest. Greg's thrusts intensified, speeding up, and he took My's cock in hand, stroking hard and fast as he pulled My back off his hands and into Greg's lap, driving his cock impossibly deeper.

It was too much, and My's entire body convulsed, shuddering, his head jerking back as he came. My shouted again and again as his orgasm ripped through him, stronger than any of the others had been.

Greg let go of his cock, clinging to My as his hips pounded up into My's body. With a harsh cry, My felt Greg come, squeezing the breath out of him as he clenched his arms around My's chest. "Oh god, oh god, My," He gasped, finally able to let go a moment later.

My, limp in his arms, just whimpered.

Slowly, they both listed to one side and collapsed on the bed, bodies still tangled together. Greg managed enough energy to offer a slow caress of My's chest with his fingertips.

"That was brilliant," My whispered, when he had enough breath, and enough presence of mind to speak.

"God, yes," Greg agreed. "You were wonderful."

My pulled away a little as Greg slipped out of him, his arse sore, but the rest of him still buzzing with pleasure. He turned in Greg's arms and kissed him. It was slow and languid and it got into My's bones, as devastating in its own way as the climax they'd just shared.

***

My woke before Greg the next morning, watching him sleep, holding him with a powerful measure of longing. He wished it didn't have to end, that Greg would let him stay. With a sigh, he nuzzled Greg's neck.

"What's wrong, My?" Greg asked, obviously only about half awake.

My shook his head. "Nothing."

Greg woke more fully, leaning up on one elbow and caressing My's cheek with his other hand. "Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Nothing I didn't expect, then," My answered. "I can't have you. I know this is all I get, but it still hurts."

Greg rolled onto his back and pulled My into a hug. "I know. I'm sorry. I wish I could give you more."

"So do I, " My whispered, trying hard not to be utterly miserable.

"Someday," Greg said, "if you're brave enough to be open, and to take a risk with your heart, you'll find someone who can love you like you deserve to be loved. Somebody closer to your age. Someone who'll learn to understand you, and make you feel safe with him."

"You can't know that."

"No." Greg shook his head. "But I can believe it. You're one of the most brilliant people I know, My. If anyone can find a way to that person who's out there for you, it'll be you."

"That assumes such a person exists. And isn't you."

Greg's mouth quirked. "Work with me, here."

My closed his eyes, holding Greg and refusing to cry.

***

Mycroft sat in Greg's flat, waiting expectantly. Greg sat across from him in the chair. "He'll be all right. He didn't want it to end, but he understood why it had to."

"And you?"

Greg shrugged. "He's a good kid. Someday, I think he'll be a good man. Like you."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"I know." He didn't look at Mycroft.

"Did you get what you wanted out of it?"

"Only insofar as he's like you."

"That consideration I'd been doing..."

Greg looked up and raised an eyebrow.

"I could be convinced of the positive potential of the project."

Greg got up and joined Mycroft on the couch.

~~fin~~


End file.
